


Sherlock's Problem

by Twentyonedaydreams



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Maybe - Freeform, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, mollock, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentyonedaydreams/pseuds/Twentyonedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock starts showing the side effects of a drug habit again, and Molly isn't exactly pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt given to me by my friend. Enjoy :D xx

 

She couldn’t believe it. He was at it again, after all they’d been through, all the relapses and recoveries and the times he’d crashed at her flat.

All the times he had promised that he’d never do it again.

He broke his word again.

She should just drop him now. He hadn’t admitted to anything, but he was showing all the symptoms. Jittery, nervous, slow speech, low energy, random bursts of activity and weird things that he said out loud.

The only question was which drug it was this time.

*********************************************************

One Week Ago

*********************************************************

“Yes I know it’s a lot. No, I have the money. When are we meeting? It has to be more discreet than that. Well, when you’re brother has eyes on you, and is basically the British Government, you need to be discreet. No no no no he won’t find out. I won’t put your name on this. Just meet me- I have to go.” Sherlock hung up the phone and quickly slipped it into his pocket as John walked in.

“Was that for a case?” He asked, fixing himself some tea.

“Oh, the phone call?”

“No, the hot air balloon in the living room. Of course the phone call.”

“No. Well, yes. No. No it wasn’t.”

John raised his eyebrows and stirred the liquid in his mug.

“Sherlock Holmes making a call that’s not for a case? Suspicious.”

“No it’s not. Is it?” The words were too rushed, too frantic, and they caused John’s eyebrows to go up higher. “How much did you hear?”

“Calm down mate. I didn’t hear anything besides you ending the call briskly.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I need to be off.” Sherlock grabbed his coat and started to leave.

“Hold on. Was that for a date?”

“Dating isn’t really my area.” Sherlock mumbled.

“Oh yeah sure. Says the man with the shoebox full of date ideas.”

“THAT WAS PRIVATE!” Sherlock screeched, and John covered his ears.

“I was joking. Wait, you actually have one of those? For who?”

“Goodbye John.” Sherlock growled, angrily flipping up his coat collar and pulling his scarf a little too tight.

“That love sick idiot. I bet it’s for Molly.” John muttered to himself, abandoning the tea and searching for the box.

**  
  
**

Sherlock Holmes hated alleyways. They always smelled of urine and body odor. Unfortunately, an alleyway was the most discreet, if not cliche, spot he could think of. He was shuffling awkwardly on his feet, getting desperate for the fix. The person he was meeting was a half hour late. Sherlock thought he would be seen by someone if he waited much longer. Suddenly a flash of brown hair passed by in the corner of his eyesight. He was too focused to go follow it, but he was sure they had seen him. It was probably just some random addict whose alley was being occupied by the man who looked rather out of place.

The door opened slowly, and a brown paper bag was handed out to Sherlock, who eagerly took it and shoved a considerable amount of money into the hand. He ran down the rest of the alley, clutching the package to his chest.

Once he had gotten back to his flat, he locked the door and opened the package.

Heavenly. The three hundred pound price tag had been worth it. This batch wouldn’t last him long, but he wanted to set a portion aside for Molly. She would love it.

Molly had been late to work, so she took an old shortcut. It went through some sketchy places, but she kept her phone pre dialed with Sherlock’s number in case anything happened. She had been in such a rush that she had paid no mind to the addict in the alleyway who looked strikingly like Sherlock. It was only a coincidence, she was sure of it, and didn’t have the time to think it through until she was at work. She realized then that the person had the same coat, the same hair, and the same height. All of those seemed like too many similarities to be just another lookalike. She was worried about it for the rest of the day, but refused to call Sherlock. The last thing she needed was him laughing at her.

*****************************************

She needed to confront him. That was the only way things would change. Stand up to him and tell him that she was done. She couldn't be pulled into this poisonous relationship anymore. She needed to end this. With shaking hands, she pulled on her coat and left.

Sherlock was trying to pace himself, he really was. But it was too difficult. This was the best batch yet, and he couldn’t stop devouring it. He snapped out of the daze when the doorbell rang. Sherlock stood and stumbled to the door, already on the high. He swung open the door and received a slap in the face from a livid Molly.

“How could you do this? How could you buy more drugs and throw away your progress? I’m done Sherlock. It’s been too long. I’ve cared for you enough. I’m finished. I’m-” All this time she had been backing him up, and somehow they had gotten fully up the stairs. Sherlock had put a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

Molly was shocked by the sudden movement and by the taste. It was the most amazing chocolate she had ever tasted. She took a step back and let her eyes widen at Sherlock who was grinning like an idiot.

“Amazing right? Totally worth the three hundred pounds.” He slurred.

Molly nodded then coughed.

“Three hundred pounds?” She asked, shocked that he would spend that much on chocolate.

“Yes. Very rare. It’s imported. I discovered it when I was in Spain. Lovely little place. Anyway, I had to meet up with the dealer per say in an alley last week. Someone might have seen the exchange and come up with the idea that I was back into drugs.”

Molly felt like such an idiot.

  
“I saved you some more…” Sherlock trailed off, holding out the package. Molly was hooked.


End file.
